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Returning Freebooter Bio for Drelana - No CC Needed


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DM Handle: badriyah

Email: k_osman16@hotmail.com


Character Info


Name: Drelana Valenrod


Age: 22

Place of origin: Tear


Appearance: Drelana is 5’8 with long limbs and a sleek, athletic body. She has long, dark, wavy hair that she wears either loose with little braids inter-mixed among her wild strands or tied back, away from her face. Her skin is pearl-white and smooth, her face soft and hauntingly beautiful set with long amethyst-colored eyes that she usually lines with dark powder eyeliner. She dresses in blouses and trousers of dark colors to blend in with the woods and she always wears leather armor above her blouses.

Personality: Adventurous, protective, understanding. Very tolerant, yet passionate. Often a little too reckless.




My name is Drelana and I am preparing to embark on an eminent journey that will end at my death. I know not the full purpose of this journey at this place in it, nor do I know if I shall fulfill that which I set about to, but it is time for me to make my decision. I must follow the path I choose for myself and remain steady. It has taken years for me to get to this point and realization; and as I recall my upbringing I still find it curious that I was brought up to be nearly the opposite of what I have become.


I was brought into this world nearly nineteen years ago as the first-born daughter of a reasonably well-off Tairen family. My father worked as a farmer and my mother spent almost all her time raising us. I do not recall her ever having any kind of job when I was a child, but it may just be that the blurry, unreliable conscience in which state of mind children reside allowed such matters to be taken as trivial and I have therefore forgotten.


Not many years after I was born my mother had another; a girl I spent my early childhood with: playing, chatting frivolously, and day-dreaming as children do about things that would never come to be or that could not possibly exist. Looking back on those carefree days of utter bliss as a child makes me miss them even more: spending all afternoon playing outside the house, in the yard and even sometimes in the fields, after a long morning of helping with chores around the house. And once the sun had set and bedtime had arrived after dinner, my mother would take turns lying down next to us each (and there were three of us by then, as my youngest sister had been born), holding us until we fell asleep. I felt so incredibly safe in her arms, as though I were completely protected from any evil that existed in the world, as though nothing could harm me in those moments before slumber descended upon me. I have never slept as well as I did in those days, and suppose I never will; the Light knows. And now it is that I have become the one who protects others; with my arrows, my dirk, and my skills as a huntress. And with my body.


But I am still not sure about this. I must not allow myself to become disillusioned by where I am as I have been blessed to have had more opportunities than most women at my age. I am satisfied with all that has happened, though I still do not know if I want to commit my life to this. If I want to commit to traveling unsettled, to risking my life to protect strangers for money - or even simply for good causes - and to abandoning myself to the wilderness.


There was an uncle that would visit us at the farm several times a year. An uncle of our father’s actually, an older, retired scout mercenary who lived in a cottage in the woods with his aging wife, away from settlements of any kind. He had given up being paid to fight other humans for supposedly less dangerous work killing animals. It did not pay quite as well as being a hired sword did, but he was old and it offered enough to keep him and his childless wife happy.


It was during the summer before I turned thirteen that my great uncle arrived, as he usually did at that time, with a proposition for my father. He had noticed over his previous few visits my increasing interest in his life away from civilization, as well as my ability with darts and my hand-eye coordination, which he assumed would make me a good archer. He approached my father the evening after he'd arrived to ask my father what he thought of him taking me out to live in the cottage. He told my extremely hesitant father that I had motivation and skills that would be wasted if I were to simply go off and marry some reasonable Tairen man once I came of age. He continued that it would esteem he who had all daughters and no sons were his eldest to take such an honorable occupation as a protector and provider to villagers or as a guide to nobles on their travels. My father was not enthusiastic about this idea, but after much persuading and arguing he finally acquiesced, and told my great uncle that it would be my mother who presented the idea to me.


And thus it was that I heard the story that evening as I stood in my shift before the looking-glass in my room, my mother a gently flickering figure in the wan candlelight, brushing my long, dark curls lovingly and relating all that had happened in the soft, comforting tones of her voice. From the moment I understood what it was my uncle had asked my father for I knew that that was what I wanted to do. Life as the mistress of some boring house in the country just didn’t appeal to me at all. I had never been able to understand how my mother could bear this way of life she had committed to years ago. How dreary it’d be to be so imprisoned for life, so cut off from all the wonders the world was sure to hold! Ah, this restlessness, this hunger for travel and adventure has always been in my nature; I see it now. However, it was not until my mother had finished speaking completely, leaving it up to me and simply stroking my hair with the brush that I realized how different things were going to be from then on. I crawled under my covers and closed my eyes as my mother settled down next to me, and I savored the moment, one of the last moments, I realized, where I would remain a child. A cold, forlorn tear slipped down my cheek as consciousness slowly lifted with my mother’s lilting voice chiming a lullaby.


In the morning I told my father of my choice to leave, to make the most of the biggest opportunity I had ever had and would likely ever have. He agreed grudgingly and the following day my great uncle, his wife, and I set out for their cozy little home.


I lived with them for five years, taking great note of the habitat of the forest that surrounded us and the fields and hills to which my uncle sometimes took me, absorbing all and trying my best to be the perfect pupil. When I reached the age of sixteen my guardian decided to allow me to go off on my own once in awhile within half a day’s walk from our little abode to practice my skills. And when I reached seventeen, I began to take off on my own for days at a time, so long as I made sure to return within the week. If not, my uncle would come out looking for me and by that time he rarely left the house anymore, except to shoot game for dinner. He had been slowing down consistently, but I was restless and excited with my new freedom and worried little. As I look back on it, I believe he tried to hide the fact that his health was failing from me to keep me focused on perfecting all that I had learned and developed into.


A year later, while I was out sleeping oblivious on dark, emerald grass, underneath a sparklingly moon, among rabbits, raccoons, and more dangerous things, my great uncle, my teacher, my guardian, the man who had come to be to me nearly as my father had been, caught a fever and died. My aunt set off to the nearest village where my uncle had been known to request help with his burial, and sympathetic village men buried him with sweet prayers and silent tears.


I was shocked to arrive at an unkept home a week later, and find my aunt weeping on the doorstep. As I seated myself next to her, putting an arm around her and leaning my head against her shoulder she began to tell me what had happened. And I sobbed into her dress as I used to do with my mother when I was a young child.


I spent three days sitting at the old man’s grave that had been appropriately situated, I thought, in a clearing in the middle of the forest; a place he and I had used to enjoy camping at. I wept so hard that twice I fainted, falling across the mound of dirt that concealed his body from me, only to be awoken by my own aching body, demanding food, hydration, and stretching of my now stiff limbs. And when I felt I had finally made some peace with his passing I rose to care for those needs. Once I had finished nourishing my body I took a bath in a nearby stream, before heading back to the farm near Tear, where I had grown up to give my parents and sisters news of our beloved uncle’s passing. And it is now that I find myself here, in this beautiful coastal town, so near where I grew up.


My parents weren’t surprised to hear of this news as he had been too weak the last two years to travel back to Tear to visit his nephew’s family (though I had gone back to visit once) and they had already assumed him dead months ago when he had stopped writing.


My father noticed that I was deeply troubled by my late guardian’s death, and attempted to comfort me (and perhaps himself as well) by offering a place in his home again, until I find someone that would please me to marry. And if I wished not to marry, he'd said, I could live in the house with my parents indefinitely.


By this place in time I think I am already too accustomed to my reckless way of living and cannot possibly even attempt to settle back down in a house, much less my parents’ house. Wouldn’t it be good, though, to have that security in my life again? I have to make up my mind; I am wasting precious time doing nothing with my life. Light help me, I must give him an answer now, he is waiting. I told him to give me a day. It has been more.


Drelana rose from where she sat at the docks contemplating all her life and weighing her options. She had traveled to the city to come to this place her uncle had once taken her to, years ago. She brushed the seat of her dark green trousers, and checked the laces on her boots, before tossing a few stray, rich, dark ringlets over her shoulder. She touched the armor she wore over her blouse lovingly; her uncle had had three made for her, made especially to fit her feminine shape. It had taken much of his life savings to have such fine leather armor tailored, but he had always been generous when it had come to the niece he had loved so much. I saw you not a month ago! How can you be gone now? How is it that I shall never see your face again, never be able to thank you for all you did for me? The young woman stepped closer to the water, so that she was just inches from the edge, closed her long, violet eyes and seemed to taste the salty sea on her lips, though she supposed it was really the salt of the tears that slithered down her smooth, pearl–white cheeks before slipping down to her mouth. It wasn’t fair, all that had happened. First her uncle, and now she had to decide what path to take suddenly. It was difficult enough to keep her mind focused, not to burst out into tears whenever she thought of the great fears and burdens that weighed now upon her. It is all almost too much to bear.


Drelana brought herself back to her plans for the future and pictured living again in her parents’ house, living with her sisters and mother and all the memories of the place she had loved so thoroughly as a child. And in a torrent of sweeping waves, more violent than those of the southern seas, all that she would be missing came to her suddenly - her unique opportunity at a different way of life and with work that few women would ever get the chance or if they did, choose to do. And she made her decision.


I will follow what is in my nature. I will embrace this longing to continue developing and perfecting my skills and abilities, to lend my services to others. I owe it to my parents and my late uncle to honor them all, to make them proud of me. I am Drelana, Mistress of Wild Things; protective, haunting, daring, and deadly. The Huntress.

Edited by Arlow
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